


Vienna

by dettiot



Category: Alias (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-10
Updated: 2014-08-10
Packaged: 2018-02-12 12:51:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2110569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dettiot/pseuds/dettiot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A mission in Vienna changes everything and nothing for Sydney and Sark.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Vienna

**Author's Note:**

> Post-Taken (3x16). I’m working on the assumption that Sark was not held in captivity the whole two years that Sydney was gone, because I can’t find the info that definitely says he was held for the whole two years.

_Slow down, you crazy child  
and take the phone off the hook and disappear for awhile  
it's all right, you can afford to lose a day or two  
When will you realize Vienna waits for you?_  
“Vienna,” Written and Sung By Billy Joel

_'Cause in Vienna we were poetry_  
Yes, in Vienna love was alive  
Watching you watching me  
All that our eyes could see  
All of the nights  
We chased into the dawn  
It was the best time of my life  
“Vienna,” Written by Frank Wildhorn and Gary Benson, Sung by Linda Eder

**

He would have preferred a glass of wine, but he had never cared for the tart white wine favored by the Austrians. So Sark contented himself with a cup of strong coffee as he sat in the dimly lit café.

He was early for this appointment, for it was one that was too important to miss. When he had first received the request, he had wondered if it was some sort of a trick, a trap, not unlike the one he had found himself in recently, much to his embarrassment.

Sark grimaced at the memory, and took a sip of the bitter coffee. When he should be at the top of his game, he found himself slipping all too frequently. The past months, with his elevation within the Covenant, seemed to indicate he was getting his life back onto its proper path, after the CIA had derailed everything by imprisoning him. Yet at random moments, he couldn’t help contemplating if the path was right and that he was the wrong man for such a course.

“Mr. Sark.”

The cold, icy voice was unmistakable and drew Sark out of his musings. He wasn’t quite prepared to hear such disdain in the other man’s voice, and Sark considered that this might have been another error on his part.

“Mr. Bristow,” Sark said, gesturing to a chair. “Please, be seated.”

**

“Sydney, now that evidence is pointing towards an existence of a mole, our status is suspect. Our pasts have enough secrets from the CIA to merit suspicions.”

She shook her head, feeling an all-too-familiar combination of lethargy and hopelessness. “I realize that, Dad. But investigating leads? Flying off to gather information? That will only confirm the suspicions!”

“Strategically, such investigations pose a greater chance for success than sitting around and playing the ‘faithful, unquestioning agent’ card.” He stepped closer to her and dropped his voice. “Sydney, I’m not doing this just for me. But your missing time—the information you received from Kendall—anyone with that knowledge will suspect that you are the mole, thanks to the Covenant’s conditioning.” He paused. “If you don’t come with me, I don’t know if I’ll find you here when I come back.”

Sydney closed her eyes, trying to fight off the wave of emotion. Through the mess of these last months, her father was the only person who had stood by her, uncategorically and unreservedly. She knew that her co-workers cared for her, worried about her. But none of them made her feel as protected as her father did.

She sighed and opened her eyes. “All right, Dad. What’s the plan?”

He spoke only one word. But that word sent a shiver down her spine and inflicted upon her a wave of guilt over the things she was hiding from him.

“Vienna.”

**

Jack glanced around the coffeehouse. “The Central. Good choice.”

“You expected me to set this up amongst the billiard players at Sperl?” Sark asked, his lip twisting.

Jack ignored the younger man’s comment, and requested from the hovering waiter a Kapuziner. They were silent until the waiter returned with the black coffee and milk. Once Jack had taken a sip, he sat back in his chair and looked at the man in front of him.

Sark wasn’t cultivating that deceptive innocence anymore. His face was thinner, with a lean, hungry look about it. His eyes were sharp, now that business was afoot. And instead of those schoolboy curls, his hair was closely cropped to his head. Jack found that this Sark looked like what he was: an assassin, a player in the international intelligence community. It was a more predictable look, and Jack pondered the reasons for such a change as he opened the meeting. 

“You are the new head of the Covenant’s North American operations, but you do not have sole control.”

Sark inclined his head in a nod. “I take it you are congratulating me, but also reminding me that I am still not completely trusted by my employers—thus my associate.”

“The position you find yourself in is perilous, as you know. Inevitably, the Covenant will eliminate one of you, because partnerships have a way of combusting.”

“And you suggest that I should sell out the Covenant before they do the same to me.”

Jack leaned forward. “You know the advantages of such an action. Let me just highlight the greatest: the chance for you to recover the fortune the Covenant stole from you.”

“Ah, Jack,” Sark said, playing with a spoon. “Are you sure that is the greatest advantage?”

**

_His fingers brushed against her skin when he fastened the collar around her neck. The simple touch, flesh upon flesh, spoke volumes. She sensed that he was as close to nervous as he’d allow himself to be. She could feel it in the slight flutter of his fingers, the warmth of his skin._

_But it was the handclasp that told her even more. As he pulled his hands away and let them drop, one came down her arm and grasped her fingers for a moment._

_He didn’t want her to die._

_As her father worked to disable the collar, Sydney closed her eyes. She had tried to deny the memories as they started coming back, but as she learned more about those two years, she knew the memories were real._

_Yet she didn’t want to accept them. She hadn’t discussed them with anyone, not even her father. For how could she tell him about this? He had told her so many times that trusting her mother had been the most dangerous thing he had ever done._

_How could she tell him, and face his disappointment, that she too had made the mistake of trusting her enemy?_

**

Sark noted how Bristow’s eyebrows went up in surprise, but only for a moment. Sark dropped the spoon and leaned forward. “Working with your daughter again would be something to make this offer most attractive. We have worked together well in the past—in Tokyo, in Paris . . . and on a few other occasions that I am loathe to mention.” He smirked slightly, preparing for Jack’s reaction.

Jack didn’t disappoint. Smoothly, he picked up the spoon that Sark had been playing with, and slammed it, handle-side-down, into the back of the hand that Sark had left resting on the table. “Explain,” Jack said with a glare.

Sark grimaced slightly but shook his head. “No. I believe you should talk to your daughter.” Sark reached over and pulled Jack’s hand away, removing the silverware from its place in his hand. Sark glanced at the hand—bruised but not bloody—and then looked back at Bristow. “I will be here tomorrow evening, around seven-thirty. I shall have an answer for you then.”

Tossing a few Euros on the table, Sark rose and strolled out of the café. He knew that Bristow was watching him leave, and now, with the stakes raised, Sark would have to be more alert. Yet it was not an easy course to pursue, when walking through the streets of Vienna was more than just a way to get from Point A to Point B.

It was a walk into the past.

**

_After a year, she still had trouble remembering whether she was Julia or Sydney, good girl or evil agent. She had managed to keep things together enough to maintain the façade of Julia consistently when her captors were present and listening. Yet she knew that she was on a razor’s edge, and the potential of slipping grew greater every day._

_Somehow, she had been assigned to this simple operation, of meeting a contact in Vienna and obtaining a package. She knew that it was to test her, and that anything that appeared to be an escape attempt would result in her death, in spite of the training the Covenant had invested in her. But if she did try to escape . . . what would she be escaping to?_

_Her forehead wrinkled as she tried to sort things out, but then she shook her head and tried to get back into character. She joined the other groups of tourists who were goggling in awe at the beauty of Vienna. The architecture alone—the mishmash of baroque and rococo ornamentation, next to Art Nouveau buildings and Biedermeir and Jugendstil decorations—was enough to make anyone’s head spin._

_She walked around the Stephansdom Quarter, gawking at sights she recognized and glancing at her watch every five minutes. By the time she reached the world-famous St. Stephan’s, she felt like crawling out of her skin. With a sigh, she sank down on a stone bench and looked around the plaza in front of the church._

_“To say this is a pleasant surprise would be putting it mildly.”_

_Her head whipped to her right and saw that she had been joined on her bench. She knew that her eyes were widening, but before she could say a word, Sark reached over and took her hand._

_“Darling, I thought we were going to visit Stephansdom together! What are you doing here?”_

_She bit her lip, almost hoping that she could pull this off. She quickly smiled at Sark and answered him. “Oh, I just couldn’t wait! And obviously, neither could you,” she said, leaning against him._

_For the benefit of everyone watching, he laughed and threw his arm around her shoulders. “Well, we’ve ruined things already, then. How about we go to a café and talk?” His hand squeezed her shoulder, telling her that this was part of the meeting protocol._

_She smiled at him again, and said, “Let me check my guidebook . . . there’s supposed to be a lovely coffeehouse nearby . . . yes, the Frauenhuber!” she said, purposefully stumbling over the German name._

_“Whatever you like, darling,” Sark said as he rose from the bench and pulled her to her feet. As they walked down the Karntner Strasse, Sydney wondered if she should take advantage of this chance to run . . . but she couldn’t help thinking, as she sat across from this man and ordered coffee and cake, that being “Julia” certainly allowed her a different chance. The chance to have all the things she could want._

**

He knew he had been walking for a long while, so he wasn’t very surprised when he found himself on the Karntner Strasse, not far from the Frauenhuber coffeehouse. For being in Vienna made him remember that interlude he had spent with Sydney, over a year ago. 

It had been strange, interacting with Sydney when she wasn’t supposed to be Sydney. But he had been able to tell within moments that this wasn’t Julia Thorne, the new Covenant operative. This was Sydney Bristow. And that certainly made this routine event much more interesting and enjoyable.

The time they had spent talking in the busy coffeehouse had been tense at first. She was trying to figure out if he would tip his hand and refer to her real identity, and he was waiting to see if she wanted him to do that. After a few stilted conversations, broken by silence and staring into coffee cups, she finally broke down.

“You know the truth, but I can’t show any sign that I’m aware of that truth,” she whispered. 

He had moved his chair closer to hers, and draped his arm over the back of her seat. “So how will we proceed, then?” he asked in a low voice.

She leveled a long, steady gaze upon him, and he could feel the itch across his skin of the pressure of that look. Then, she surprised him. It wasn’t the first time that Sydney Bristow had knocked him for a loop, but this time was certainly one that would be impossible to top.

She kissed him: a slow, thorough kiss that spoke volumes. And he found that he liked what she was saying when she opened her mouth under his. He could only hope she was willing to accept the offer he was making to her.

When her hand slipped up and grasped his shirt, pulling him closer, he had his answer.

The next hours were spent rolling around the large bed in his hotel room, as he finally had a chance to learn all the secrets her body held. He had no idea why she was letting this happen, why upright moral Sydney was here with him. But she was here, and he was going to enjoy the experience.

He just didn’t realize how much the experience would stay with him. He had chalked up his attraction to her as curiosity and desire and nothing more. But the power of the memories . . . well, he hadn’t expected that. And now he was back in Vienna, with the possibility of working with her again. It was tempting, very tempting, to see if she felt anything similar to what he felt.

He doubted it. But it certainly made Bristow’s offer that much more interesting.

**

Jack stormed into her hotel room, but didn’t say a word. He just looked at her. And she knew that he knew something.

“Tell me what you remember,” he said, his voice somewhere between supportive and disappointed. 

She pushed aside the papers that she had spread across her lap, and rose from the bed. “I . . . I wasn’t sure,” she said, trying not to sound like she was scared of her own father. “I was on my first mission as Julia Thorne, and I was sent to Vienna to do a routine info exchange. Sark was the contact. And . . . I was so confused and lost, and Sark was the only thing I’d seen that I could connect to my old life. So . . .” She trailed off, turning to look out the window at the lights of Vienna. She hoped her father wouldn’t ask for more.

“So you slept with him,” he said softly.

Sydney put her face into her hands. “Yes,” she said, her voice muffled.

Jack sighed heavily and sat down in the armchair next to the bed. “Sark didn’t give me a decision tonight. He said he’d meet me tomorrow and tell me his answer. Do you think he would view a resumption of your . . . interaction as an inducement to work with us?”

Sydney frowned in thought, trying to consider the possibilities. Then she shook her head. “I have no idea. He certainly seemed . . . interested in me, but he didn’t seem like he would ‘treasure the moments we had shared together’,” she said, using air quotes around the cliché.

“So we have no way of anticipating his response and planning a course of action. Great,” Jack said.

She didn’t say anything in response, and chose to continue gazing out the window. And she wondered whether her reaction to their “interaction” counted at all, because she wasn’t sure if she was willing to ignore their history.

**

When Sark walked into the coffeehouse the following night, he wasn’t surprised to see that Jack Bristow was already there. He kept his hands in his coat pockets as he walked up to the table, wanting to display confidence.

“So what’s your answer, Sark?” Jack said, not making any attempt at the pleasantries. 

So, he knows, Sark thought. He had decided to wait and not finalize his decision until he saw Bristow’s attitude, and now he had his answer. 

“Well, I must say, I was quite surprised by your offer, Agent Bristow,” he said, taking a seat. “However, I feel that there is no inducement for me to change employers at this time.”

Jack sighed. “I suppose if I said that you shouldn’t let my reaction color your decision, you’d deny any such impact?”

“Not at all. I’m just not willing to jump from a snake pit, peopled with backstabbing betrayers, to another that features just one angry father.”

Sark stood up, not wanting to prolong this encounter. But Bristow’s voice stopped him. “Did it mean anything to you, other than a notch on your bedpost?” 

He turned in surprise at the question, and Bristow continued speaking. “I’m not asking out of a salacious interest. But I’d like to know whether you have an attraction to my daughter that might become more dangerous.”

“Do you really think I will tell you anything?” Sark said in curiosity.

Jack tilted his head. “Yes, I think you will.”

Sark grinned slightly in amusement. “Well, then. Let me just say . . .” He paused for a moment, and then brought his eyes back to Jack. 

“I treasure the moments we shared together.”

And with that, he walked out of the coffeehouse and hoped it would be a long time until he encountered either Bristow.

**

_“So what happens now?”_

_Her voice was soft and groggy, and he rolled over from his contemplation of the rising sun over Vienna’s rooftops._

_“Well, I believe we both need to get dressed and then go our separate ways,” he said, trying to inject levity into a discussion that could quickly become more serious for his liking._

_She nodded, and pulled herself out of bed. He turned back over and gazed out the window, trying not to notice the reflection of her naked body as she walked towards the bathroom._

_She re-emerged from the bathroom, showered and dressed, and came over to his side of the bed. She stood there, and he knew he should acknowledge her. But he could only focus on the view._

_“Is this the moment when I say, ‘Please, tell no one about this, but know that I will always remember you’?” she said, with biting sarcasm._

_“I’m not very aware of the etiquette pertaining to this kind of occasion,” Sark said as he finally rolled over to look at her. He marveled at the beauty of her face, the strength of her body. He pushed himself up, and noted the tension in her hands and shoulders. He reached out, and tugged her down to sit down next to him on the bed._

_“This is the information I was to give you,” he said, pulling an envelope out from under his pillow. “Go back and show them that nothing unusual happened, and they will be content that you have been appropriately conditioned.”_

_She nodded, and traced the flap of the envelope. “But the joke’s on them.” Sydney looked up at him. “But you know that.”_

_He couldn’t help a smile at that. “True.”_

_The silence stretched out between them for a few moments before Sark spoke. “I suppose I should say something like, ‘I’ve always desired you, but we know there will never be more than this one night of poetry’.”_

_She wrinkled her nose. “A little too flowery for my tastes. Why not just ‘I will treasure the moments we spent together’?”_

_“Fine,” Sark said. He paused, and waited for her to look back at him. Then, softly, he said, “I will treasure the moments we spent together.”_

_Sydney smiled at him, and ran her hand across his mouth. Then, she rose from the bed, picking up her purse from the floor. With a quick glance over her shoulder at him, she slipped out of the room._

_And that look made him think that no matter what happened, Vienna would always be waiting for them._

End.


End file.
